Page 74 of Back to Me

“Like what?”

“I wish I would have fought harder for her. Sometimes, we would have these fights so big, she would threaten to leave me, then she would storm out of the room, claiming she couldn’t stand to look at me anymore.” He shakes his head at the memory. “I knew she wanted me to go after her. But I never did. I think one day she just stopped waiting for me to come after her.”

“I don’t know.” Shaking my head, I run my palms along the smooth fabric of my pants and stand up, pacing the room as my father had done earlier. “There are so many things I don’t know. I can’t for the life of me figure out why the exhibit turned out the way it did, and my boss isn’t answering his phone.” I sigh, the overwhelming sensation of helplessness taking over once again. “I don’t even know if she’d take me back.”

Standing up, he places his hand on my shoulder. “How do you know if you don’t try? See, that’s where you and I are different.”

Confused, I search his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Dropping his hand from my shoulder, he shrugs. “You know what you want out of life, Graham. And you fight for it.”

***

My dad stayed with me at the hotel long enough to take me out to an early dinner. We spent the rest of the afternoon catching each other up on what’s been going on back home and how Liz is doing. I told him about how I was offered the job at the museum and everything that happened afterward. It was strange talking to my father that way, but the longer I sat in front of him, the more I began to understand him. It would take us a long time to get ourselves in a good place, but it felt good to know we had taken the first step.

When he drops me back off at the hotel, I sit in my car and try to call Sara. My nerves rage inside me and my stomach flutters. When she doesn’t answer, I fight back the urge to give up, remembering what my dad had told me.

The drive home was long, but when I stand outside the front door to our apartment, I take a few minutes to gather myself. Nervous, I quickly run my fingers through my hair and push it to the side, straightening it out. I take a deep breath, smoothing out my shirt. With shaky fingers, I adjust my tie, so it isn’t crooked. With the way I’m dressed and shaking, you’d think I was here to pick up Sara for a blind date.

Sliding my key into the lock, I hesitate, noticing the door is already unlocked. A feeling of weariness washes over me because I always remind Sara to lock the door even when she’s home. I open the door and step through the entryway. The living room is dark except for the light above the island in the kitchen. Taking several steps inside, I find Sara seated on the couch. She’s sitting straight up, her back stiff and rigid, her hands resting in her lap, her legs pressed together, her feet flat on the floor.

The shadows dance across her worried face, and I stand stunned as a single tear drips from her eye. She inhales a sharp breath when she sees me, and for a moment, it looks like she’s relieved I’m here. But behind her eyes, I sense fear.

“Sara,” I breathe her name like I haven’t spoken it in years. It feels good coming out of my mouth, and I want to go to her, wrap her up in my arms, spouting off a thousand apologies. “I’m so sorry,” I say, taking another step toward her.

Her lips part and her mouth quivers. “Graham.” A quiet sob escapes her, and her face fills with pain. With the slightest shake of her head, I can see a warning behind her eyes.

I stand across from her, struggling to find the words to put this all behind us, to go back to the way we were before. “Sara,” I begin again. “I love you and—"

“Graham,” she says my name again, interrupting me. “Please,” she begs. Another tear from her cheek falls and lands on the skin of her wringing hands.

I open my mouth to continue, hearing my father’s voice in the back of my mind, urging me to keep fighting for her, but I stop as I watch her eyes nervously shift to the side.

She’s looking past me to my left, watching something behind me. Fear fills her glassy emerald eyes, and a chill runs down my spine. Blood drains from my face, finally realizing there’s something wrong—seriously wrong. I cautiously turn around, unsure who or what has Sara so terrified. When I turn around and see the man standing directly in front of me, I choke on the name coming out of my mouth.

“Mr. Price?”

“Good of you to finally join us, Graham.” Gesturing toward Sara, he adds, “Please, sit. Make yourself at home.”

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